on what is saving me

about a month ago, i received a package in the mail.

medium in size, it probably didn't spark attention to most. especially not our apartment complex. book size envelopes are never a surprise for 2017.

but for me, it was a lifeline i didn't know i needed. i'd been working with oil pastels for a year in a 12x18 sketchbook but what came out was nothing to celebrate - outside of therapy. i can still scroll through those pages and find collages i don't remember completing.

i took jubilee with me to san diego - my first page gessoed and declaring this is it, elora - this is war. what the hell are you waiting for. and why don't you break the rules already?

you see, this is my art journal, and it's saving my life.

every morning, i wake up and complete some pages. i've lost count now how many have been warped and painted and journaled and perfected. these pages hold my deepest fears, my expectation of abandonment, my love for the ocean, and my most desperate prayers.

reminders like stop apologizing! own your pain. celebrate your healing. and find the rhythm of your soul and move from there - the unforced rhythm of grace.

because, as one of the first pages suggest, it's time to get in the mess, look around the rubble, find what's left and let Him rebuild. this is that book. me letting myself rest in the muck for awhile so i can figure out who the hell am and what i need to do.

and there are others who join me, a secret rebel tribe who whisper moments of bravery in their own pages. there are no mistakes, no rules, just baby steps toward the light.

every day i feel a little braver than i did the day before. a little more dauntless. a little more vulnerable. i see my ability to abide in the questions and i'm okay with the mess they make because for once, perfection isn't an option.

what results is a beautiful testament to where i'm at in my life right now. no pretenses, no struggle for words. just raw color and splashes of inspiration. for the first time, i'm experiencing what it's like to feel those broken pieces inside find their place and settle deep. i'm finding my voice, figuring out my name, and holding on to jubilee.